


The two best babysitters

by KendraPendragon



Series: My tumblr writing [35]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-23 10:58:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16157630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendraPendragon/pseuds/KendraPendragon
Summary: Sherlock and Molly watch Rosie. They panic.





	The two best babysitters

The sun is filling the living room of 221b Baker Street with joyful sunlight. There is a baby cooing in its chair, bobbing herself by excitedly bouncing her legs. The infant looks up at the two adults standing in front of her. She laughs and puts her chewing toy in her mouth.

“Awww, she’s so cute.”

Molly bends down to stroke Babygirl Watson’s cheek. Then she stems her hands in her hips and looks expectantly at the handsome man next to her.

“So, what do we do first?”

The soft expression turns into confusion, than fear. His kaleidoscope eyes dart to his pathologist.

“You mean you don’t know?”

“No, course not.”

She looks at him with her bright brown eyes as if this information isn’t something worth panicking.

“Then why did you come?!”

Sherlock asks, anxiety crawling up his spine.

“To help you with the baby. You’ve watched her before, haven’t you?”

“No!”

Now she gets it.

Her natural cheerfulness is replaced with pure horror.

“Why didn’t you say so?!”

“Why don’t you know babies?!”

“Because I don’t have one!”

All that screaming is upsetting the little girl in the bobbing chair. She expresses her protest in the only way she knows – screaming at the top of her lungs.

The two adults only stare at her, frozen in terror.

“Oh my God. I’m going kill John and Mary’s baby. They’ll shoot me. Whoever reaches me first.”

While various death scenarios swirl around in his head, Molly takes a deep breath.

“Okay, we can do this. We just have to calm down. Sherlock!”

She tugs at his red shirt. The man is staring at the screaming baby.

Molly grabs his head and makes him look at her.

He blinks.

“You get the laptop, I’ll get the diapers and the formula. We can do this!”

“O-Okay.”

They hurry off in different directions.

Baby Watson blinks the crocodile tears out of her eyes and wonders where everyone went. She calls for them in the only way she knows – screaming at the top of her lungs.

~oOo~

Nighttime, 221b Baker Street. The flat, a mess. Chairs tipped over, seven laptops scattered around the living room. Countless diapers on the ground, one sticking to the bull at the wall. The coffee table pushed against the wall, the music stand leaning against the desk.

On the couch, the beaten consulting detective. His shirt is not white anymore and buttoned down four buttons. Traces of formula and baby spit have ruined the expensive fabric. The usually bouncy curls stick to his forehead. His shoes are off, one sock is missing. The black trousers are in good condition, though.

The long legs are stretched out and the head is resting on the backrest.

His eyes are closed.

Sherlock Holmes hasn’t been that knackered in years.

“She’s finally sleeping.”

Molly Hooper enters the room, looking just as exhausted as the other babysitter. During the evening she has taken off her jumper and is only wearing her green blouse, buttoned down like Sherlock’s. Her bun is loose and several strands are falling into her face. She’s not wearing shoes, either, though she managed to keep both her black socks on.

With a long sigh she collapses onto the couch. She rests her back against Sherlock’s side and her head against his neck. Pulling up her legs has never felt better.

“We actually did it”, she exclaims weakly, her eyelids weighing a ton all of a sudden.

“Hm”, comes the reply from the consulting detective.

Her hair is tickling his jaw, so he rests his cheek on top of her head.

“Have you seen my shoes? I should go home feed Toby.”

In his head, he replies that he thinks they are in the bathroom. It comes out as another mumble. Sleep is taking him, Molly’s warmth and the honey scent of her skin care making it all so easy.

He’s hardly conscious when he wraps his arm around her.

They pass out after Molly intertwined her fingers with his.

~oOo~

John and Mary Watson have to stifle a laugh when they discover their babysitters passed out on the couch. The brief moment of panic was instantly resolved when Mary found her daughter peacefully sleeping in the travel crib in Sherlock’s bedroom. Now she was peacefully sleeping in her mother’s arms while she observed the sleeping couple.

“They look so cute together.”

“Do you think we should wake them?”

“Don’t you dare. This is exactly what they needed and I hope for their sake they won’t panic in the morning.”

John gives his wife a look.

“Of course they will. Sherlock definitely will.”

Mary sighs and throws one last look at them.

“I really want to take a picture.”

“Already took one while you got Rosie.”

Mary giggles.

It’s time for them to leave. So they do, as quietly as possible.

~oOo~

To everyone’s surprise, the only one panicking in the morning is Molly. As soon as she realizes that she is cuddled up against Sherlock, she jumps up and starts rambling. Sherlock remains in his position and watches her blush and fidget. When she stammers that she’s going to check on the baby, he sighs and pulls out his mobile to check the time. A text is waiting for him.

A smile spreads on his lips when looks at the pic John sent him, telling him that they have picked up little Rosie.

Sherlock’s not the least surprised when Molly runs back into the living room.

“She’s gone! Rosie! She’s gone! Someone has taken her! She didn’t fall out of the crib, I checked the floor and everything! Oh my God, someone kidnapped her! We have to call emergency! The police! Greg! Mycroft! Everyone! We have to find her! Oh my God! Oh my God!”

Sherlock, who has lifted himself off the couch, steps in Molly’s way.

Her panicky eyes stare at him.

He holds up his phone to show her John’s text.

She lets out relieved sigh.

Sherlock scrolls down to the pic of them sleeping together.

Molly’s eyes widen.

Then she blushes and lowers her eyes.

The stammering begins anew, but Sherlock doesn’t even hear it.

Something inside him had clicked when he had woken up with her in his arm. It felt right. It looks right.

He’s been an idiot. One big, colossal idiot.

Molly is so lost in making bad jokes that she totally misses how Sherlock wipes a strand out of her face. Only when he puts a hand in her neck and pulls her against him does she look up.

Her mouth drops open and her eyes widen.

He smiles.

Then he does the thing he should have done years ago – he kisses her.

Yes. Just yes.

It’s only a small kiss, tender and sweet, but with a taste of something life-changing.

And Sherlock isn’t scared. Not in the least. On the contrary. He can’t wait.

“Are you sure?”

The insecurity and fear in her voice is understandable. He’s done many awful things to her. How she is still here is something his mind cannot understand. Not yet, that is. In a year, when they will be standing in front of the priest and he will push the golden ring over her finger, he will finally understand the power of love.

Right now he cannot imagine his feelings for her to grow even more.

“I love you, Molly.”

Three words he’s learned to fear. How easy it is to say them to the right person.

She cups his cheek. It’s the beginning of something new and wonderful in his life.

“I love you, too, Sherlock.”

Even though he is happier than ever, he can’t smile. So he pulls her into a tight embrace and kisses her again.

And again.

And again.

Until his lips are swollen and numb.

Kissing Molly Hooper just feels too bloody good.


End file.
